


An Infernal Affair

by Tenukii



Series: Good Omens [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Secret Relationship, Size Difference, Slow Burn, female Beelzebub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenukii/pseuds/Tenukii
Summary: Lord Beelzebub and the Archangel Gabriel enter an uneasy secret truce to decide how to deal with the problem of Crowley and Aziraphale.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Although Beelzebub’s gender is not established in the series, I use she/her pronouns here.

Out on his morning run two days after the world didn’t end, the Archangel Gabriel almost didn’t notice a small figure slouched on one of the park benches.  He jogged past, then slowed as he realized what—or rather _whom_ —he’d seen.  Gabriel doubled back to the bench, looked again, and stayed there running in place in front of the Lord of the Flies, who sat with her arms folded, knees apart, and pale face fixed in a bored expression.  Now that Gabriel thought of it, Beelzebub looked bored every time he saw her, which was perhaps once a millennium or so—at least until the day before yesterday.

“What are you doing here?” Gabriel hissed down at the demon lord.

Without looking at him, Beelzebub intoned, “Sit down.  We have an important matter to dizzcuss.”

“In case you can’t tell, I’m _busy_ ,” scoffed Gabriel, still jogging.  Beelzebub finally raked her ice-blue eyes over him, and her mouth twitched in a faint, derisive smirk.

“‘The wicked run when no one izz chasing them,’” Beelzebub taunted the archangel.  “Proverbs 28, verse one.”  Then, seeming to dismiss him as yet another thing which bored her, she returned her gaze to the empty path in front of her.

“The Word refers to fleeing an enemy, not this sort of running,” Gabriel muttered.  Nevertheless, he stopped jogging and sat down at the opposite end of the bench from Beelzebub.

“What izz the difference?  You look ridiculous either way,” she declared.

Gabriel huffed; if anyone looked ridiculous, he thought, it was the Prince of Hell wearing a suit with netting across her middle and a giant housefly for a hat.

“I keep this body in good condition by exercising it,” he replied loftily.  “You should try it, get into shape.”

“I already have a shape,” said Beelzebub with a gesture at her corporeal form.  Whenever she spoke, it was in a manner that sounded more suited to a university professor lecturing a particularly dull class of students.  Gabriel found this both ironic and very irritating.

“Never mind, self improvement is clearly a concept beyond a demon’s understanding,” he retorted.  “What do you want, anyway?  You should have made an appointment at my office.”  Gabriel kept a private office nearby as a sort of base of operations for when he had to deal with Earthly matters—or with demons.  He and Beelzebub had already met there once, when they planned the respective punishments of the renegade angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley.  They had negotiated for an exchange—holy water for hellfire—and Gabriel had been somewhat surprised that Beelzebub kept her part of the deal.

Now Beelzebub replied, “There wazz no time—this izz urgent.  Regarding what I believe izz a mutual problem.”

Gabriel put up a hand to stop her.  “If you mean the Great Plan, my side is handling it.”

By “handling it,” he really meant that they were at a complete loss of what to do, because the Almighty still wasn’t speaking to anyone, and no one wanted to take responsibility for doing _something_ in case it would turn out to be the _wrong_ thing.  In fact, Gabriel had come down to run just to diffuse the stress of having all eyes in Heaven on _him_ , as if he somehow had the answers when he was as lost as any of them.  Of course Beelzebub needed to know none of this.

“I do not mean the Great Plan.  I mean the mutual problem of the traitorzz.”  Beelzebub buzzed harshly at the end of the word, and Gabriel wondered if her boredom was feigned.  She might be under as much pressure as he was.

“What about them?” Gabriel asked carefully.  “The angel Aziraphale has been. . . dealt with.  Just because your side can’t control one of your own demons, I don’t see how it’s _my_ problem.”

“Hmph.”  Beelzebub leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees with her small hands dangling between them.  “Yes, I assumed that Michael reported back to you about what happened.”

“Of course.  A demon immune to holy water, how embarrassing for you,” Gabriel gloated.  His smile faded when Beelzebub turned her head and fixed her eyes on him, wide mouth turned down sternly.  She stared at him for an uncomfortably long moment before speaking again.

“I’ll wager that your ‘dealing with’ your wayward angel had similar resultzz,” Beelzebub charged, “even if the demon I sent with the hellfire didn’t witness them.”

“Not—not at all, nothing of the kind!” protested Gabriel, who was a terrible liar.  Of course, normally he didn’t _need_ to lie, because he was always _right_.  Until recently, when he seemed to be wrong about a number of things and had to hide that fact from the demon lord who was _still_ staring at him.  Her eyes were rather pretty for a demon’s, which made her gaze all the more discomfiting.

Finally, Gabriel muttered, “All right, supposing that I’m not entirely satisfied with the results of our disciplinary action.  That’s an internal affair, so why do we have a ‘mutual problem’?  And what are you proposing we do about it?”

“A demon out of our control izz also a demon out of _your_ control,” said Beelzebub.  “Vice versa with your angel.  What’zz more, it izz known that they. . . conzzzz—”  She broke off and closed her eyes in frustration before finishing, “ _consort_ with one another.”

“Yes,” said Gabriel with a grimace.

Beelzebub flicked her eyes open and continued, “Working together, they managed to put a stop to Armageddon.  What elzze might they be capable of, together?”

Gabriel frowned; he hadn’t really considered that Aziraphale and Crowley would continue to be a problem, as long as they were left alone as they’d requested.  He hated to admit that Beelzebub had outthought him on anything, but she could be right.

He asked, “So you believe we should assess this mutual problem. . . together?”

She hesitated, her lower lip caught between her teeth, then gave a quick nod of her head.  The wings on her hat bobbed.

Gabriel thought about it.  No one on his side had to know that he was working with Beelzebub, and he suspected she would keep it quiet on her side, as well.  And if their collaboration allowed Gabriel to head off potential trouble, he would look good.  _Very_ good.

“I may regret this, but all right,” Gabriel eventually agreed.  “We can’t continue to talk here though—we’d attract too much attention.  And you’re already attracting flies.”  He shooed away one buzzing in the air between them to make his point.  The fly retreated towards Beelzebub and landed in her hair.  When Gabriel leaned forward to swat at it, Beelzebub slapped his hand away.

“Keep your handzz to yourself, Archangel,” she growled as Gabriel rubbed his hand and glared at her.  “Where are we going to meet?  Your office?”

“That’s satisfactory.  Can you be ready in an hour?”

Beelzebub nodded again.  “I will bring the demon Crowley’zz file.  Do the same for the angel.  The more information we have on them both, the more complete our azzezzzz—assessment.”

Gabriel got back to his feet and told her, “Fine.  Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to finish my run.”  Beelzebub shifted her eyes away from him in a gesture that conveyed infinite scorn for his vanity; then she vanished in a flicker of green light.  Affronted, Gabriel glanced around to see if anyone had noticed.  Nobody had, but he jogged quickly away from the empty bench all the same.

\--

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Later, while he waited in his office for Beelzebub to arrive, Gabriel tried to remember what she’d been like before the Fall.  She was one of the cherubim, he recalled that much.  Had her pale blue eyes glowed?  Had her skin been flecked with gold?  Had her hair been any neater?  It had been too long for him to remember, and he had difficulty visualizing her as celestial.  Especially with the flies.

To his dismay, Beelzebub brought them with her when she appeared a few moments later in her true, fully demonic form, with scabbing now covering her forehead, neck, and most of the left side of her face.  She popped into existence slumped in one of the chairs on the other side of Gabriel’s expansive desk.  A thick file folder rested in Beelzebub’s lap, several flies crawling lazily across its surface.

“Could you please dismiss those. . . _insects_?” Gabriel asked with distaste.  Beelzebub regarded him flatly from beneath her dark brows; then she snapped her fingers and pointed downwards.  All the flies flew obediently down to the carpeted floor and seemed to burrow into it as they disappeared.

“Thank you,” the archangel muttered reluctantly.  He had changed from his running gear into his favorite suit and scarf, and he straightened the latter before spreading his hands over his own file folder.  It was the only item on the desk’s glossy surface.  Beelzebub glanced down at it, then back up to Gabriel’s face.

“That izz the angel’zz file?”  When Gabriel nodded, Beelzebub scooted her chair forward until she could reach the desk, then laid her folder on top.  Gabriel reached for it, but she clamped her little hands down over it.

“We trade,” Beelzebub ordered, “and Crowley’zz file doezz not leave this room with you.”

Gabriel glared and demanded, “Let’s get one thing straight, you don’t give _me_ orders.  Save it for your demon minions.”

“And you save yourzz for the simpering sycophants you surround yourzzelf with up there!” snapped Beelzebub as she pointed towards the ceiling.  “You don’t make the rulezz here.”

“Neither do you!”  Gabriel gestured at the file Beelzebub still clutched.  “You expect me to read all that right _now_?”

“Yes, unless you want me taking that—”  She pointed at Gabriel’s folder.  “—down to Hell!”

“Of course not!  I can’t risk a bunch of demons seeing this kind of information!” Gabriel grumbled.  “Besides, you’d probably get it dirty.  I’d get it back covered in flyspecks or something.”

Gabriel thought, hoped even, she’d lose her temper at that; but instead, Beelzebub regarded him with a disdain no one else had ever dared to cast upon the archangel.

In the lecturing-professor voice that drove him crazy, she said again, “We will trade and read them here.  I had a difficult enough time getting thizz file away from Dagon, and I am not letting it out of my sight.”

Beelzebub slowly slid Crowley’s file halfway across the desk, still with her palm pressed flat on top of it.  Even more slowly, Gabriel pushed Aziraphale’s file towards the demon lord.  Each of them laid their free hand on top of the other’s file and stared into the other’s eyes.

“Trade?” asked Gabriel.

“Trade,” said Beelzebub.  Each snatched the other’s file and sat back with it clutched in their hands.  Beelzebub glanced down at the angel’s folder with a slight yet greedy smile.  Gabriel had to admit to himself that he felt just as excited about getting his hands on some of Hell’s documents.  To his knowledge, no one else in Heaven had had this opportunity.

Gabriel leaned back in his chair and began to flip through the demon Crowley’s file.  It was as expansive as Aziraphale’s, with the most notable difference being all the memos Crowley had sent to his superiors regarding himself and his grand accomplishments.  As annoying as Gabriel found Aziraphale to be, at least he wasn’t boastful, nor had he generated so much unnecessary paperwork.

Another section of the file was devoted to Crowley’s dealings with that particular angel.  Most of the documentation was recent—within the past week, in fact—which relieved Gabriel.  It meant that Hell had been as unaware as Heaven that Aziraphale and Crowley were friends.  And neither side had suspected the worst of it, that they had been working together—

_—against us,_ Gabriel thought, gritting his teeth.  _All of us, Hell as well as Heaven.  None of us ever guessed._   He glowered down at the file in his lap, hardly seeing it anymore through his anger.  The whole situation was infuriating, but worse, it was embarrassing _._   Gabriel had been _duped_.  Aziraphale had looked into Gabriel’s face and, if not lied, failed to admit that he had been communicating with a demon for the past 6,000 years.  No, not just communicating—c _onsorting_.

Gabriel was so lost in his own angry thoughts, he jumped when Beelzebub spoke: “We seem to have gathered much of the same intelligenzze.”

“What?  Oh. . . yes.”  Gabriel looked over at her.  The Lord of the Flies was spinning around in her chair, propelling herself along by pushing one foot against the ground with the other leg folded up into her lap.

“And the traitors seem to have been doing much the same thingzz,” she continued.  She gave a final, firm push with her foot and spun until the chair came to a stop, facing Gabriel.  “Taking on each other’zz jobzz.  Working together instead of againzzt each ozzzzer.”  She buzzed more intently as her ire grew.

“I know,” Gabriel said.  He studied her scowling face then asked cautiously, just to make sure, “How long have your people known?”

Beelzebub flicked her eyes up to his and, after a pause, replied, “Not long.  A few dayzz.  He had us. . . dezzeived.  And you?”

“The same.”  Gabriel exhaled a long breath and massaged his temples with his fingertips.  “I just—I don’t _understand_ how this happened.”

“How we all missed the signzz?”

“Well, yes, that, but—an _angel_ and a _demon_ becoming _friends_.  How does that even happen?” the archangel groaned.

“Not enough supervizzion,” Beelzebub answered immediately.  She drummed her fingers on the folder open across her lap.  “We left them to their own devizzes for too long.  We—I should have followed up.”

As before, she sounded bored with the proceedings, but as he watched her closely, Gabriel suspected something else: that Beelzebub was _tired_.  Maybe as tired as he was, considering that she was in much the same position as he.  Surprised as he was to find that he had anything in common with the demon lord, Gabriel decided that it might be to his advantage to commiserate with her, establish some rapport.  Network.   _Consort,_ he thought before pushing the nagging idea away.

Aloud, he said, “Don’t be too hard on yourself.  Judging from these memos, it looks as if Crowley accomplished quite a lot for you before he turned traitor.”

“I’ve been checking up on thozze.  He lied,” Beelzebub said bleakly.

“Isn’t that what demons are supposed to do?” suggested Gabriel.

“Not to _me!_ ”  Beelzebub spun her chair around again and, with her back to Gabriel, went on, “We’ve all been negligent, and now we have a pair of roguezz on our handzz.  Crowley—he izzn’t juzzt a demon anymore.  And it izzn’t juzzt that he’zz gone native and become too human, either.  It izz azz if the angel. . . rubbed off on him somehow.”  She sighed and dropped her head, then turned it to look at Gabriel over her shoulder.  “What about yourzz?  Izz he like that too?”

Gabriel agreed, “Yes.  Like he’s become. . . part demon.”

“Doezz it worry you?”

Remembering how Aziraphale had quite literally breathed fire at him, Gabriel admitted without thinking, “It terrifies me.”  He regretted it immediately after, but Beelzebub only nodded.

“Me too,” she murmured.  The half of her mouth he could see curled up in a brief, rueful smile; then she turned her head away.  Gabriel found something about that smile captivating, perhaps because it was a sign of something rare: a demon showing empathy.

_Even if that’s so, she’s still a demon, and she can’t be trusted,_ Gabriel reminded himself before he turned back to the file in his hands.

\--

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

By the time she finished reading the angel Aziraphale’s file, Beelzebub’s head ached fiercely.  This was partly due to the dreadful condition of the file—everything out of order, some material duplicated or even triplicated.  The other cause of her headache was the _silence_.  She was used to working in Hell, where a constant din hummed all around her.  There was always noise, whether from tortured souls or other demons going about their work or her subordinates wanting her attention.  And, of course, from her flies.

But there in Gabriel’s office, there was. . . nothing, and it put her on edge.  Even the archangel was quiet, except for a faint rustle when he turned a page in the file he was perusing.  The previous times Beelzebub had encountered Gabriel, he had talked a lot, and loudly.  She hadn’t imagined he could remain silent for this long.

Beelzebub closed the folder and rubbed her temples with her fingertips.  When she glanced over at Gabriel, he had set aside Crowley’s file as well and was staring out of the picture window which took up almost an entire wall of his office.  Beelzebub followed his gaze and squinted at the bright window overlooking London.  The sunlight made her headache worse, and she blinked her eyes against it.

“Have you finished?” she asked Gabriel, turning her chair back to face him.

“Hmm?  Yes.”  The archangel slapped a hand down on the folder resting on his desk.  “You?”

Beelzebub nodded and rolled her chair over to the desk, where she slid Aziraphale’s file back over to Gabriel.  When she reached for Crowley’s folder, Gabriel placed it in her hand.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, surprising her that he wanted her opinion first.  Beelzebub chewed on her lip in thought before replying.

“It. . . izzn’t as bad as I suspected,” she admitted.  “Up until the events of this past week, I mean.  Neither your angel nor our demon hazz been azz attentive azz they led us to believe, and they’ve been azzizzting each other almost the entire time, but they cauzzed no major trouble—”

Gabriel interrupted her with a snort.  “Until they _ruined_ Armageddon!  The Great Plan!”

Beelzebub closed her eyes and said impatiently, “ _Before_ that.  My point izz only that I expected worse.”  When she looked again, Gabriel was frowning with his violet eyes fixed on her and glowing slightly.  She stared him down.

Finally, Gabriel glanced away and muttered, “I suppose you’re right.  However, I still think they bear watching.”

“That dependzz.”  Beelzebub dropped her aching forehead in her hand.  “They can’t find out they’re being watched.  Hell only knowzz what they’ll do.”

“Obviously!  I’ll put a select group of angels on surveillance—”

“No!” groaned Beelzebub.  “You angelzz are terrible at blending in.  It izz better that I send demonzz—”

“ _We’re_ terrible at blending in?  Look at how _you’re_ dressed!  And I am _not_ relying on information coming from a bunch of _demons_ —”

“What do you think you were juzzt looking at?” Beelzebub shouted, then cringed at the fresh wave of pain this hammered into her head.  Gabriel looked at her and frowned again.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked.

“You give me a headache,” Beelzebub told him.  Instead of rising to the insult, Gabriel just smirked.

“Is that all?”  He rose from his chair and leaned over the desk, reaching his right hand out toward her.  Horrified, Beelzebub threw herself back in her own chair and rolled back from the desk.  Gabriel took on what she guessed was meant to be a reassuring expression—to her, it just looked smarmy—and beckoned her forward with his hand.

“No, no, c’mere,” he coaxed her.  “I can make it better.”

Beelzebub squinted up at him then slowly rolled forward again—not that she trusted or believed him, but he piqued her curiosity.  What in Hell (or would it be “what in Heaven”?) did he think was going to happen?  When Beelzebub got close enough, Gabriel brushed her hair off her forehead and pressed two fingertips to her skin, just above the scab between her eyebrows.  Beelzebub felt a jolt like a painless electric shock, and then her headache was gone.

She buzzed in surprise.  Gabriel gave her the cocky smirk she usually hated and sat down again.

“Headache’s gone, right?” Gabriel asked her smugly.

“What did you do?”  Beelzebub put her own hand to her forehead, which still tingled from his touch.

Gabriel shrugged his broad shoulders and said, “I’m an archangel.  Healing is really Raphael’s department, but it’s not something I can’t handle.”

“Even for a demon. . . for me?” she murmured.  “Why?”

He shrugged again, looking somewhat embarrassed, and mumbled, “We have work to do.  Where were we?”

“We were arguing over whozze side would be keeping watch over the traitorzz,” Beelzebub pointed out.  “And I think all we can agree on izz that we disagree.”

“Hmm.  Yes.”  Gabriel templed his fingers on his desk and regarded Beelzebub over them.  “You know, maybe there’s an obvious solution to this.  You said the traitors worked together instead of against each other.”

“Yes, and. . . ?”  Before Gabriel could answer, Beelzebub understood.  “You mean, you think _we_ should work together?  Put angelzz and demonzz on surveillanzze _together_?”  She gave a harsh buzz of laughter.  “That’zz ridiculous, they’d destroy each other.”

“I don’t hear you coming up with any better ideas,” Gabriel retorted sulkily.  “There must be _some_ of our people that can get along.”

“There were—Crowley and Azziraphale.  That izz how we got into thizz mess in the firzzt place,” Beelzebub muttered.  She looked back at Gabriel, who was watching her with his gleaming eyes narrowed, and an idea occurred to her.  It was even more ridiculous than Gabriel’s, but it was the only one she could think of that might actually work.

“What about us?” she asked him.

Gabriel arched an eyebrow.  “‘Us’?”

“On surveillanzze.”

The archangel’s brows flattened out as he asked, “You aren’t serious, are you?  I don’t know about you, but I’m actually important Up There—”  He pointed upwards.  “—and I don’t have time to waste down _here_.”

“I’m as bizzy as you are,” Beelzebub returned, “so it won’t be conzztant surveillanzze, but it’zz better than nothing.  We’d watch them separately.  Crowley would be more likely to notizze me, and the angel to notizze you—so we switch.”

“You would watch Aziraphale, and I would watch Crowley?  I suppose that makes sense,” Gabriel admitted in a reluctant tone.  “Then what?  We’d have to keep each other informed.  We meet up again?”

“I suppozze.”

Gabriel got up from his chair and went over to the window, where he stood looking out with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.  Beelzebub watched him and waited until he looked over at her.

“All right,” the archangel agreed.  “We’ll try it, at least.  But I think it’s best we keep this a secret, don’t you?  If either of our head offices found out we’re working together. . . .”  He didn’t have to finish the sentence for Beelzebub to know what he meant.

“Yes, that will be best.”  Beelzebub stood and pulled her phone from her pocket.  “Give me your number—in case there’zz an emergency we need to be able to get in touch without going through official channelzz.”  As they exchanged numbers, Beelzebub couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

_We’re behaving like traitors ourselves,_ she thought, watching Gabriel enter her number into a sleek, metallic purple phone.  _I’m only working with him for the greater evil. . . but that might be how Crowley and the angel started out as well.  First they worked together, and then—then they became **friends**._  She wrinkled her nose unconsciously.

“When do we meet next?” Gabriel asked, sliding his phone back into his pocket.  “Should we give it a couple days?”

Beelzebub thought a moment, then nodded.  “Yes.  I’ll meet you in two dayzz where we met thizz morning.  I’ll be waiting while you run with no one chasing you.”  She smirked, and although Gabriel rolled his eyes, he smiled a little too.

“It’s a deal,” he said and put out his hand.  Although it practically engulfed her smaller hand, Beelzebub shook it firmly.

\--

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the angel information in this chapter, I referred to Gustav Davidson's _A Dictionary of Angels_ , Rosa Grigori's _Angels and Demons in Art_ , and the Bible, of course - specifically Ezekiel chapters 1 and 10.

When she got back to Hell, Beelzebub returned Crowley’s file to Dagon.  The Lord of the Files was in her office, which was dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights and packed with cardboard file boxes and folders.  Perched in a rickety chair with another file box open on her lap, Dagon looked up from her work when Beelzebub entered, accompanied by a retinue of flies.

“Oh, you’ve brought the file back!”  Dagon beamed, showing the sharp tips of her teeth, before shifting the open box from her lap to the floor.  She swept Crowley’s folder into her arms and clasped it.  “Did you find what you wanted?”

“Not really,” said Beelzebub.  Dagon had started towards a stack of boxes in one corner, but she stopped and looked back at Beelzebub with concern.

“Oh dear.  Was something. . . missing?”  Dagon’s voice was rather soft for a demon, even when she was concerned about something.  Her tone contrasted sharply with Beelzebub’s harsh voice.

“No, I don’t mean that.”  Beelzebub clasped her hands behind her back and rocked upwards on her toes, remembering the state of the angel’s file she had looked through and deciding Dagon deserved some praise.  “You’ve done exzzellent work maintaining the recordzz, as alwayzz.  Everything wazz where it should be.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Dagon responded with a renewed smile.  Beelzebub didn’t insist upon Dagon using her title when they were alone, considering that Dagon was the closest thing to a friend she had; Dagon did so now almost playfully.  She seemed to be in a good mood, despite the world not ending—maybe because of all the paperwork involved.

Dagon continued on to the stack of boxes and opened the one on top.  Over her shoulder, she questioned, “Just what was it you were looking for, if I may ask?  Maybe it’s in another file.”

“I doubt it,” Beelzebub said, at the same time wracking her brain; she hadn’t expected Dagon to question her.  “I wazz looking for, ah. . . any weaknessezz we might exploit againzzt Crowley.  But it’zz like he said—if he can bathe in holy water, what elzze might he be able to do?  We juzzt can’t risk challenging him.”

Dagon slid Crowley’s folder into her box and covered it, then stood with her hands spread over the top.  After a moment, she asked, “What about the angel?”

Beelzebub’s first thought was of Gabriel, and she glanced at Dagon’s back suspiciously.  “What angel?”

“Crowley’s friend.”  Dagon turned around to face her and continued, “From the information we have, it seems like they’re _very_ close.  That would make the angel a weakness, wouldn’t it?”

It was an astute observation, and Beelzebub wished Dagon were correct.  She couldn’t even tell Dagon _why_ the idea wouldn’t work—that Aziraphale had exhibited the same anomalous behavior that Crowley had, that he was equally as dangerous.  Dagon would certainly ask where Beelzebub got that information, and Beelzebub couldn’t tell her.  _Oh, I met with the archangel Gabriel today, and by the way, he read everything in that precious file of yours._

“That possibility izz. . . something I will consider,” Beelzebub said eventually.

“Do you want the angel Aziraphale’s file?” Dagon asked, blue eyes wide with hope.

Beelzebub stared at the other demon.  “You. . . have filezz on angels?”

Dagon grinned, this time showing all of her pointed teeth.  “I have files on _everything_.”

“Well, in that case, yes, let me have it,” Beelzebub said.  She doubted it could possibly be as complete as Heaven’s file on Aziraphale, but it couldn’t hurt to have a look.  As Dagon gleefully started moving boxes around to dig out the file, something else occurred to Beelzebub.  She told Dagon, “Let me have your files on the archangels as well.”

“The archangels?  Mm, all right,” mumbled Dagon.  She opened a box that had been shoved up against the wall and pulled out a slender folder; then she darted across the room and started pawing through a stack of files.  She seemed to know exactly where each and every file was stored, even though her system was incomprehensible to Beelzebub.

Not for the first time, Beelzebub thought, _Heaven lost a great asset when she Fell.  And if **we** ever lose her, we’re screwed—no one else could make sense out of this mess._

After a couple minutes, Dagon presented Beelzebub with a stack of folders.  Beelzebub thanked her and promised to return them later that day; then she retreated to her own office.  It wasn’t much different than Dagon’s, a little bigger but just as dim and as cluttered.  Beelzebub settled into her desk chair and sorted through the folders Dagon had given her.  She pulled two from the stack and tossed the others on her desk unopened.

She looked through Aziraphale’s file first.  As she had thought, there wasn’t much to it, but she was impressed at Dagon’s work on it nevertheless.  She learned nothing new about the angel, and soon she added his folder to the pile on her desk.  That left her with the file which really interested her—Gabriel’s.

Beelzebub wanted to know everything she could about him, in order to prepare herself for working with him.  The more she knew, the less likely she was to taken by surprise or outmaneuvered.  Beelzebub opened the folder and looked at the first item, which happened to be a photo of Gabriel with a smug smile on his handsome face and his entrancing violet eyes glowing.  A few flies landed on the picture, and Beelzebub chuckled to herself before gently brushing them off and flipping to the next document.

She read the entire file over the next couple hours and, as with Aziraphale’s, didn’t learn much from it, save one interesting fact: Gabriel had been in trouble exactly once, for not obeying a commandment from the Almighty exactly as She specified.  Unfortunately, there was no record of just what that commandment was, or how Gabriel redeemed himself after his punishment of being locked out of Heaven for a short time.

_So you almost fell once,_ Beelzebub gloated over the information.  _I’ll have to remember that._

\--

At the same time Beelzebub was reading about Gabriel, he was also reading about her.  He had borrowed her file after returning Aziraphale’s, with the same idea of learning more about her to give himself some leverage against her.  Most of the information about Beelzebub dealt with the time before she Fell, with only a few later observations tucked in here and there.

Her name had been Ba’al Zebul, and she had been a cherub, as Gabriel remembered.  Zebul had chosen to fight on Satan’s side when he rebelled, and as such, she had been cast out of Heaven alongside him and the rest of his followers.  Amidst the documentation of Zebul’s time in Heaven, Gabriel came across something that stopped him short: her ID photo.

Despite how humans had chosen to depict cherubim since the Renaissance (“like winged baby pigs!” one disgusted cherub had described the pudgy angelic children), actual cherubim were stunning beings.  Even though the ID photo was grainy and only showed her from the shoulders up, Gabriel could see that Zebul was no exception, and he stared at the magnificent creature Beelzebub had once been.

Two of her six wings showed behind her, full of lustrous white feathers, and her pale skin was indeed flecked with gold—in all the places, Gabriel realized, she now bore scabs and boils.  The unkempt hair hadn’t changed, nor had the pale blue eyes in the middle of her face.

But then there were the _other_ eyes.  Zebul was covered in them, small glistening red eyes nestled into the feathers of her wings, spreading out over her collar bone from her throat, peeking out of the golden patches on her skin, lined up like jewels on a diadem across her forehead.  Hundreds of little eyes in all, seeming to stare at Gabriel out of the photo.  Zebul was beautiful—in a terrible sort of way, yes, but beautiful all the same.

After he finally put the picture aside and finished reading the file, Gabriel ended up being impressed.  Zebul had worked as the guard of one of the celestial temples, and she had an exemplary record: always on time, never missed a day, followed orders to the letter.  Until, of course, the rebellion.

_Why?_ Gabriel wondered, looking back at her photo once more.  _Why did you give this up?  You went from being Lord of the Temple to being Lord of the Flies—for what?_ Looking into her eyes—the blue ones—Gabriel recognized an expression familiar to him, one he had seen in those eyes just that morning: boredom.

Gabriel shook his head slowly with a not-altogether-mocking smile spreading over his face.  Here was the kind of information he’d been looking for.

_You rebelled because you were **bored.**_

\--

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

On the day they had agreed to meet, Beelzebub sat waiting for Gabriel on the same bench as before.  She spotted him from a distance and watched him jogging closer.  She still thought he looked ridiculous; however, his behavior must have appeared normal to humans, considering that those he passed took no particular notice of him.

When Gabriel reached the bench, he slowed to a walk, looked around to ensure they were unobserved, then sat down.  Only then did he glance at her.  In his current human form, his eyes were an ordinary dark brown instead of purple, but they were striking all the same.  Beelzebub caught herself wondering if humans found him attractive.  What about other angels?  Other demons?

“I wasn’t sure you were going to show up,” Gabriel said to her.  “I’ve never known demons to be good about keeping their word.”

“Thizz izz too important a matter for me to take lightly.”  Beelzebub studied him, then observed with disdain, “You’re all sweaty.  You deliberately perform activitiezz that put you in thizz state?”

Gabriel gave a sarcastic laugh and returned, “Don’t pretend you’re bothered by a little sweat.  I’ve seen the company you keep.”

“All of them make for more enjoyable company than you do,” retorted Beelzebub.  “Enough pleazzantries—have you begun your surveillanzze?”

“Yes.  And you?”

She nodded.  “Your renegade angel leadzz a spectacularly boring life.  He didn’t step out of that bookshop of hizz at all yezzterday.”

“He really is awfully obsessed with those book things.  I should have known he’d cause trouble, just from that fixation on earthly material objects,” Gabriel mused.  “So unbecoming in an angel.  Anyhow, did you go inside the shop and see what he was doing in there?”

Beelzebub stared at the archangel.  “Of courzze not!  He would have recognizzed me, even in human form.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes in exasperation.  “You could have disguised yourself!  You can look like anybody you want, can’t you?”

“I don’t like to change my appearanzze,” Beelzebub muttered.  “And anyhow, you angelzz can sense evil.”

Waving off that concern, Gabriel said, “Aziraphale’s been around Crowley so long, he’s probably numb to it.  Besides, he’s not very observant.  As for your appearance, you could get away with not changing much.”  He swept his eyes over Beelzebub and suggested, “Get some new clothes, lose the hat—”

“I wazzn’t wearing my hat yesterday!”

“—maybe get a haircut.  Definitely make yourself taller.”

“Here, make yourself shorter!” Beelzebub snapped at the archangel, fed up with his criticism.  “And change your own clothezz while you’re at it—you’re wearing _wingzz_ on your shirt, for Hell’zz sake!  You don’t blend in any more than I do.”

“I was only making some suggestions,” replied Gabriel haughtily.  Fuming, Beelzebub folded her arms and turned her face away from him in case it looked as red as it felt.

She grumbled, “Never mind your suggestionzz, let’zz just get thizz over with.  I told you what I obzzerved of the angel, so what about _your_ report?  What did Crowley do while you were watching him?”

Gabriel shrugged and admitted, “Not much.  He was in his flat for most of the day.  He did go to the movie theater though.”

“I’m not surprizzed.  Did you follow him in?”  When Gabriel didn’t answer, Beelzebub reluctantly looked at him again and was amused to see him fidgeting.  She demanded, “Well?”

“All right, no, I didn’t!  For the same reasons you didn’t follow Aziraphale,” Gabriel finally admitted.  “Besides, I don’t know what goes on in those places!”

Beelzebub sighed and pointed out, “Humans view filmzz there, typically.  It’zz also popular with some of the demonzz—a good place to tempt, I hear.  Izz that why you’re afraid to go in?”

Gabriel gloated, “Afraid?  Hmph!  As if I, an archangel, could be _tempted._   I only thought Crowley might sense me or recognize me.”

“Get a haircut,” said Beelzebub snidely.  Gabriel glared at her.

“Never mind that.  Tell me, what makes theaters such good places for temptation?  This could be important.”

“You’ve never been in one?”

“I don’t have time for vain human pursuits,” the archangel declared.  “Have _you_?”

Beelzebub muttered, “No, I spend little time on Earth, and temptation izzn’t part of my job description.  But from what the otherzz report, they can cover three of the big seven sinzz in one place—sloth, gluttony, and lust.”

“Sloth, I can believe, sitting there watching movies all day,” scoffed Gabriel.  “What about the other two?”

“Humans like to eat unhealthy foodzz while viewing filmzz, and the theaters sell it in enormous amountzz,” Beelzebub explained.  “Azz for lust, it izz dark and the humanzz sit close together.  You can imagine what goezz on sometimezz.”

Gabriel just looked at her blankly, and Beelzebub amended, “Well, perhapzz _you_ can’t.”

“Hmm,” the archangel murmured with a frown.  “Maybe I should investigate this movie theater business.  My side might be missing quite an opportunity for soul-saving, not to mention what Crowley could be getting up to in there.”

“If he’zz tempting, he’zz not doing it officially.  He’zz been taken off Hell’zz books completely,” Beelzebub informed him.

“Oh?”  Gabriel arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow.  “Because the same has happened with Aziraphale.”

“Yes, I believe the general consensuzz is that we pretend Crowley never exizzted.  Dagon still maintainzz hizz record, of course, but other than that. . . .”  Beelzebub trailed off and shrugged.

“He could be freelancing,” suggested Gabriel, “or he might be up to something else entirely—for all we know, he’s in there doing _good_.  In either case, I’ll follow him next time.”  He paused and looked at Beelzebub thoughtfully.  “Maybe I should practice first. . . go in today, see what it’s like so I’ll know how to avoid standing out.”

Beelzebub nodded cautiously; she didn’t like the way he was eyeing her.  Abruptly, Gabriel cocked a finger at her and declared, “You’re coming with me.”

“ _What?_   Why?” Beelzebub demanded.

“Because you need practice blending in more than I do.  I’ve been coming down to Earth regularly for quite a while,” Gabriel replied.  “Besides, Aziraphale could very well end up at the theater too, so you should be prepared.”

Beelzebub scowled at him, but Gabriel did have a point about Aziraphale.  He and Crowley seemed to spend a lot of time together, so it was reasonable to assume they’d go to the movies together as well.  If Beelzebub and Gabriel would have to trail them into the theater, it really would be better that they practice first—and even as angry as Gabriel made her, she would do better to practice with him than without.  After all, he really did spend a lot more time on Earth than she did.

Gabriel took her hesitation for refusal and sighed, “Look, I’ll make a deal with you.  I’ll change clothes if you lose the hat and. . . those.”  He waved his hand at the sash and medals Beelzebub wore on her chest.

“All right,” Beelzebub finally agreed.  “You firzzt.”

Gabriel gestured up and down his body, and a lavender-grey suit replaced his running clothes.  “Better?” he asked.

“I suppozze.”  Beelzebub removed her fly-shaped hat and sent it and her regalia away with a snap of her fingers; then she started buttoning her jacket over her shirt.  Although of course she didn’t care in the least what Gabriel thought of her, she muttered, “What about me?”

“More like a human,” said the archangel.  When Beelzebub raised her head from her buttons, he was still watching her intently.

“ _What?_ ” she growled.  “I am not changing anything else about myself, so forget it.”

Gabriel squinted then shook his finger at her again as he observed, “I really offended you, didn’t I?”

“Your very existenzze offendzz me,” replied Beelzebub flatly.

“I’m being serious—”

“So am I.”

Gabriel sighed, “I’m sorry, all right?  I really was just making suggestions.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

At first, Beelzebub was stunned into silence over the fact that the Archangel Gabriel had actually apologized for something.  Finally, she muttered, “You didn’t hurt me, you merely insulted me.  But. . . thank you for apologizzing.  I am sorry azz well for criticizzing you.”  She finished in a low buzz, unsure of herself.  Demons weren’t supposed to apologize any more than archangels were.

Gabriel nodded and smiled at her.  The smile was faint, but it was real, not sarcastic or patronizing.  It made Beelzebub feel strange inside, warm and shaky, the way Gabriel’s apology had.  That feeling set off a thousand warning bells in her head—it was too close to _liking_ Gabriel, too close to _friends_.  Far too close to falling into the same trap that had snared the traitors.

And yet she felt her own mouth turn up slightly in return, no matter that she tried to stop it.

\--

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

As he and Beelzebub entered the movie theater lobby, Gabriel looked around in distaste.  The lobby was not exactly crowded, but there were more than enough common-looking humans there, in the archangel’s opinion.  A few had arranged themselves in pairs, some of which were holding hands.

Gabriel leaned down and whispered to Beelzebub, “It appears some humans come here as part of their courtship rituals.”

“So I have heard.  Perhaps we should imitate them in order to blend in,” Beelzebub muttered in return.  She studied one couple queued nearby to purchase tickets, and nodded towards them.  “Those two seem to know what they’re about.  We’ll follow them.”

“Wait just a minute,” Gabriel began to protest.  “I thought we discussed the fact that you aren’t in charge—”  He fell into astonished silence when he felt Beelzebub grab his hand.  She tugged him towards the queue, and he ended up following her gamely.  The pair in front of them were holding hands too, but Gabriel doubted _that_ woman had a grip as powerful as Beelzebub’s.  At least, her partner didn’t seem to be in any pain.  Unlike Gabriel.

“Let go!” he hissed.  Beelzebub glared up at him and pointed at the clasped hands of the other couple.  Ignoring that, Gabriel managed to pry his hand out of hers.  He shook it to relax his cramped fingers while Beelzebub frowned and looked away, almost as if she was offended. 

He bent down and whispered in her ear, “Look, I don’t object to holding—to imitating the humans.  Just not so tightly, hmm?”  When Beelzebub did not respond, Gabriel gingerly took her hand again and held it.  Beelzebub’s fingers twitched; then slowly she folded them up over his, this time without crushing them.

“Like this?” she mumbled, still not looking at him.

“Yes, it’s nice—nicer.  Better,” Gabriel mumbled.  Embarrassed, he glanced at Beelzebub again and was gratified to see that a touch of color had come to her pale face as well.  Nevertheless, he did rather like how her hand felt in his, demon or not.  Angels generally had little physical contact with anyone, and Gabriel couldn’t remember the last time he had touched another being’s bare skin.  Beelzebub’s felt cool and surprisingly smooth across the back of her hand, although her palm was rougher.  Despite how hard the demon lord could grip, her hand seemed delicate when encircled by his own.

By the time Gabriel turned his attention away from Beelzebub’s hand, the couple in front of them had reached the head of the queue.  Beelzebub listened intently to the conversation they exchanged with the cashier as they purchased tickets for a movie, along with a paper sack filled with a food called “popcorn” and two drinks.

As the couple moved off with their purchases, Beelzebub pulled Gabriel up to the counter and proceeded to order tickets to the same movie the others were seeing, and—much to Gabriel’s disgust—the same popcorn and drinks as well.  When Beelzebub had finished, the cashier turned expectantly to Gabriel, leaving the archangel to wonder if there was some part of the process Beelzebub had neglected to perform.

There was.  She informed him of this after a awkward moment of silence by commanding, “Pay the man, Gabriel.”

Gabriel, who never carried money, had started to protest, “But I don’t—” when Beelzebub kicked him in the leg.  At the same time, she gave the cashier a smile she likely meant to be reassuring.  If so, it was most unconvincing, and the young man glanced nervously at her.

“Gabriel—” Beelzebub began, and he sighed, “All right.”  He let go of Beelzebub’s hand to reach for the money he miracled into his pants pocket.  It would certainly be classified as a “frivolous” miracle, but Gabriel justified it as being less disruptive than a fight with Beelzebub in public, in front of humans.  He paid the cashier and took the tickets and one of the drinks; Beelzebub picked up the other and the popcorn and gestured toward the theater where their movie was playing.

“That way,” she declared.

As they left the counter, Gabriel grumbled, “Why did you have to buy food?”

“I told you, humanzz eat while they watch moviezz,” Beelzebub said in her lecturing voice.

“ _I_ keep my body pure.  I don’t consume human food,” Gabriel lectured back at her.  Beelzebub stopped walking and looked him over.

She observed, “You angelzz are so vain.  Izz that why you run too, to purify. . . thizz?”  She gestured up and down at his body.

“It’s not vanity, it’s a matter of preserving my corporeal form,” protested Gabriel.  “If something happens to it, there’s a tremendous amount of paperwork involved in getting a replacement.”

“Mhm,” said Beelzebub.

“And there’s nothing wrong with taking pride in one’s appearance,” he added.  “It isn’t _vain_ , it’s—it’s about reflecting well on the head office.  Corporate image, you know.”

“Mhm,” said Beelzebub.  “Anyway, if you are incapable of consuming food without becoming unattractive—”

“I didn’t say _that_ —”

“—then you don’t have to eat it.  But thizz whole experience was _your_ idea, so you should be more invezzted in learning how to blend in.”  Beelzebub started again for the theater and left Gabriel to follow her, glaring at her back.

Inside, the theater was dimly lit and sparsely filled.  Beelzebub spotted the couple she’d been following, seated near the front, and chose seats a few rows behind them.  Gabriel edged his way down their row and folded himself into the seat to Beelzebub’s left.  While his seat felt too small for him, she had plenty of room; her feet barely even touched the floor.  She easily fit the bag of popcorn between her thigh and the armrest separating their seats, then peered down into it.

“I am going to eat some of thizz,” she declared.

“You do that,” muttered Gabriel.  He was momentarily distracted, trying to locate the source of a peculiar but not unpleasant smell he’d just noticed.  Was it Beelzebub?  She hadn’t ever smelled like that before.  In fact, she normally didn’t smell like much of anything at all (which was rather a relief to Gabriel, considering how someone who attracted flies _could_ smell).

When Gabriel leaned in closer to the demon lord and sniffed, he realized she wasn’t the source of the smell—the popcorn was.  And it smelled _good_.  Much better than most Heavenly food, certainly; good enough to make Gabriel feel. . . hungry.

_Ridiculous!_ he scoffed to himself.  _It can’t possibly taste good, or be at all nutritious._   Still, he watched closely when Beelzebub finally picked up one exploded grain kernel between her thumb and finger, studied it, then brought it to her lips.  She parted them, placed the popcorn on her tongue, closed her mouth.  Chewed, swallowed, licked her lips.

Then she turned to him and hissed, “What are you staring at?”

Gabriel looked from her mouth to her eyes and demanded, “Well?  What does it taste like?  Horrible?”

“Hm.  No.  It’zz. . . .”  Beelzebub trailed off and ate another piece before continuing thoughtfully, “It’zz an ephemeral, insubzztantial tazzte of salt and butter.  It’zz crunchy and greazzy at the same time, and. . . .”  She ate three more pieces at once and said with her mouth full, “And it’zz really deliciouzz.”

“Ugh, it sounds terrible,” muttered Gabriel.  He knew what salt tasted like, at least in theory—it played an important role throughout the Almighty’s Word, “Ye are the salt of the Earth” and so on—but he was uncertain about the concept of “butter,” or of how a food could be of two opposing textures at the same time.  “Crunchy” sounded unappetizing, but “greasy” sounded even worse.

Meanwhile, Beelzebub was shoveling an entire handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Gabriel asked her with disdain, “Are you going to eat _all_ of it?”

“Pozzibly.”

“At least stop talking with your mouth full, it’s disgusting!” Gabriel scolded.  Beelzebub glared at him, but at least she chewed before she spoke again.

After she swallowed, Beelzebub held the popcorn bag up on the armrest between them and ordered, “Quit whining and juzzt try it.  One piece will not dezztroy you.”  When Gabriel looked at the bag mistrustfully, Beelzebub added, “It tazztes like it smellzz—very good.”

Gabriel admitted, “It does smell somewhat appealing, but—  Wait a minute.”  He broke off and looked at Beelzebub even less trustfully than he’d looked at the popcorn.  “Are you actually trying to _tempt_ me?”

“Hmph, I told you tempting izzn’t part of my job,” muttered Beelzebub, although she looked away as she said it.  “And eating izzn’t a sin, even for angelzz.”

The annoying thing about it was, she was right: no one had ever actually _forbade_ Gabriel to eat Earthly food.  As long as he didn’t get into the territory of gluttony, there really wasn’t a problem. . . and the way Beelzebub was eating, there wouldn’t be enough popcorn left to be gluttonous over, anyhow.

_In fact, I’ll be keeping **her** from sinning!_ Gabriel decided.  _Eating the entire bag would certainly count as gluttony, but she can’t do that if I eat some of it._   That practically made it his duty to eat the popcorn—a small sacrifice to make in order to thwart the Prince of Hell from committing one of the Deadly Sins!

“All right, I will consume one of these popcorns,” Gabriel acquiesced, “but only for the sake of imitating the humans. _Not_ because you tempted me into it.”  Beelzebub glanced back at him as he plucked one piece from the bag, studied it, then slowly put it into his mouth.

It tasted divine.

Now Beelzebub’s description of the flavor made sense.  Gabriel could taste the salt and a delicious contrasting flavor which must have been “butter.”  And it _was_ crunchy, he discovered when he bit into it, even though the buttery part was soft, as Beelzebub had noted.  How on Earth had the humans managed to concoct such a thing?

_What else have I been missing?_ Gabriel wondered before he could stop himself.

“Well?” Beelzebub asked after a few seconds.  She took in the expression on his face and smiled slightly.  “You like it, don’t you?”

Gabriel immediately felt guilty.  She was right: not only had he broken his own rule about eating, he had _enjoyed_ it.  But he reminded himself of his reasons for doing so, and Beelzebub was still giving him that cute, smug little smile thinking she had tempted him, while _he_ had thwarted _her_.

_Nothing to feel guilty about,_ Gabriel told himself.  _I should get a commendation for this!_

Aloud, he informed Beelzebub, “It’s tolerable,” as he reached for more popcorn.

\--

To be continued


	7. Chapter 7

Beelzebub quickly discovered one side effect of eating: it made her thirsty.  She put her mouth over the end of her drink’s straw and sucked, far harder than she needed to, as it turned out.  Her mouth was flooded with whatever-it-was the humans drank, something very sweet and fizzy and cold.  When it hit her teeth, she felt a sharp pain in her forehead.  Beelzebub winced, but the pain faded after she swallowed.  The sweet taste remaining in her mouth made her crave more of the salty taste of the popcorn.

“No wonder humanzz fall into gluttony so eazzily,” she muttered.  “It’zz a viciouzz cycle.”

“Hmm?”  Gabriel had his mouth full of popcorn and was occupied with shoving his hand as far down into the sack as it would reach.

“I _said_ —ugh, get your big, clumzzy hand out of there before you eat it all!”  Beelzebub grabbed Gabriel’s wrist and hauled his hand out of the bag so she could get more popcorn for herself.  “And I said that it’zz a viciouzz cycle.  The popcorn makezz you thirzzty, and the drink makezz you hungry.  It’zz an ingeniouzz method of perpetual temptation.”

“Thirsty?  Is that what this is?”  Gabriel grimaced and rubbed at his throat.

“Drink some of that.”  Beelzebub pointed at his drink, resting in the cupholder to Gabriel’s left.  He frowned at it, but then grimaced again and picked it up.  Beelzebub watched him suck cautiously on the straw.

“This is. . . it’s so _sweet_ ,” the archangel complained after swallowing.  “I feel like my teeth are about to start rotting.”

Beelzebub told him, “I think we’ll get uzzed to it.  The humanzz at least seem to love it.”  She gestured at the couple she was watching a few rows ahead.  The female human was rapidly consuming her drink, and the male one was eating popcorn from a bag he held between them.  As Beelzebub and Gabriel watched, the man held out a piece of popcorn to the woman, then fed it to her when she opened her mouth.

Beelzebub wrinkled her nose and asked, “Izz that part of a courtship ritual?  Humanzz are so _strange_.”

“I believe he is trying to convey symbolically that he can provide for her if she chooses him as a mate,” Gabriel explained.

“They are humanzz, not birdzz!” Beelzebub snapped.  “And look, she’zz feeding him now.”

“Well _I_ don’t know what—oh, the movie must be starting,” Gabriel said when the lights in the theater began to dim and the screen in front lit up.

He seemed more interested in the film than Beelzebub felt; he even forgot about the rest of the popcorn.  She slouched in her seat and looked up at the screen as the movie began, but it was hardly what she had expected: very intense and very short.  It consisted of about two minutes of humans chasing each other around in automobiles, and that was it.  She started to complain to Gabriel, but then _another_ movie began.  This time, Beelzebub paid closer attention and realized that it was just an advertisement for a film that hadn’t been released yet.

After three more such advertisements, the actual movie finally started.  It turned out to be a love story, detailing the courting rituals of a young human woman in what was supposed to be a humorous manner.  Beelzebub hated it, yet Gabriel seemed intrigued; when she glanced up at him, he was watching the screen raptly.  She ate the rest of the popcorn without him noticing and tossed the bag on the floor, then looked over at Gabriel again.

The archangel actually laughed at the movie woman’s idiotic schemes to get a boyfriend, and Beelzebub made a face, thinking, _He’s such an **idiot**._  At the same time, she was fascinated by the difference between Gabriel’s behavior now and the way he normally acted.  His laughter often sounded fake to her, either demeaning or patronizing, and he always seemed tense and on edge.  Now, though, his laugh sounded genuine, and he had relaxed back into his seat as if he were quite comfortable.

_He’s enjoying himself,_ Beelzebub realized, _maybe for the first time in a while._   Hell only knew how long it had been since _she_ had enjoyed something.

She certainly wasn’t enjoying the movie, no matter how much Gabriel liked it.  Beelzebub glanced at the screen in disgust then turned her attention instead to the human couple she’d been watching.  The male human had put his arm around the shoulders of the female, and she was leaning against him.  From time to time, he lifted his hand to stroke her hair.  Part of human courtship, apparently, involved remaining in constant physical contact.

_Should we be doing that?_ Beelzebub wondered.  She looked over at Gabriel again, doubting that she could even reach his shoulders to put her arm around them.  Leaning against him seemed easier, yet the thought of doing so made her feel twitchy.  Simply holding his hand had been awkward enough, especially since she had done it wrong. . . .

As Beelzebub watched him, Gabriel frowned then leaned over towards her rather than the other way around.  Beelzebub tensed up, but he didn’t touch her, only shook his finger toward the human couple in front of them.

“What are they doing?” he whispered.

She looked at them again and found that they were no longer watching the movie; instead, they had faced each other and appeared to have locked their mouths together.

“Another courtship ritual,” Beelzebub whispered back to Gabriel.  “I believe they call thizz one ‘firzzt bazze.’”

Gabriel studied them a few more seconds; then he murmured, “Oh yes, I remember now.  Kissing.  Quite a peculiar practice, isn’t it?”

“Quite,” Beelzebub echoed.  She averted her eyes from the human couple, who were getting rather enthusiastic, and ended up looking at Gabriel again.  He too was watching her rather than the couple.

“Do you think we should, ah. . . learn how to do that?” he asked.

“I. . . I don’t know,” she stammered.  “Mozzt humanzz don’t go around kizzing all the time.  It might be unnecezzary.”

“But we’re imitating humans engaged in courtship, so it might seem strange if we didn’t,” argued Gabriel.  Beelzebub still hesitated.  The idea of kissing Gabriel intrigued her, but at the same time, it made her nervous as well.  She glanced at his mouth then bit her own lip.

“I suppozze we could try,” she finally agreed, then jerked her thumb at the other couple.  “But juzzt a little, not like _that_.  I don’t want your stupid face rubbing all over mine.”

“Hmph, it’s not like I’m going to enjoy this either,” Gabriel retorted.  They glared at one another, even as Gabriel shifted in his seat to face Beelzebub.  He placed his hands on her shoulders, then glanced at the other couple and adjusted them.  His hands almost completely covered her narrow shoulders, and Beelzebub could feel the warmth of his touch even through her jacket.  When Gabriel looked back at her, his glare had faded, and his eyes showed the slightest hint of a lavender glow.  Something about it all—his hands or his eyes or the thought of their mouths touching—left her feeling strangely shaky.

Beelzebub shifted towards the archangel and leaned up; Gabriel bent his head down.  She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and touched her lips to his.  At that second, Beelzebub felt a jolt, much like she had when Gabriel cured her headache a few days before, and she pulled back a couple inches with a soft buzz of surprise.

Gabriel drew in his breath as well, but then he brought his hands up, resting one on her neck and cupping her jaw in the other.  Beelzebub tilted her head into his touch without understanding why she did so, except that his hands felt even warmer on her bare skin and she _liked_ that feeling.

_I like **him** ,_ she thought, then immediately corrected herself: _No, I don’t—it’s only my corporeal body reacting.  I would feel the same way if I did this with anyone else!_   Even as Gabriel drew her closer and as she came willingly, even when she put her own hands on his shoulders and pushed herself up to kiss him again, Beelzebub assured herself that it meant nothing.

Gabriel pressed his mouth against hers more firmly than before, opening it just enough for her to feel the tip of his tongue touch her lower lip.  Beelzebub felt herself buzzing, like all her flies were trapped in her chest and beating their wings, thrumming.  She opened her mouth without thinking and brushed her tongue against Gabriel’s.

“Mmn,” Gabriel hummed, and the sound startled Beelzebub into breaking the kiss and drawing back.  Both opened their eyes and stared at one another.  Gabriel’s glowed such an intensely bright violet, Beelzebub feared they might attract a human’s attention.

“I—I think that’zz enough,” Beelzebub mumbled.  She turned to face forward and sat huddled in her seat, staring up at the movie screen without seeing it.  Part of her didn’t _want_ to stop kissing Gabriel, yet another part was, frankly, terrified.  All the new things she felt overwhelmed her.

_How could humans have come up with something like that?_ she marveled.  Like the popcorn and drink, kissing seemed to be an invention of continual temptation: once you started, you had a hard time stopping.

\--

To be continued


End file.
